Can't Catch Tomorrow
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Brian makes some unusual desicions after Justin leaves for New York. Can anyone understand what he's going through?
1. Chapter 1

**If anyone's waiting for Missing Moments to resume … I'll start season 3 tonight! =D**

**To this story … I have no idea what this is. I wasn't going to post it because I'm not sure about it but I liked Debbie's input so I thought 'what the hell'. Erm, yeah … I don't think it's a one shot but I haven't decided yet … Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**D/C: It's not mine … obviously! Otherwise I wouldn't be sat in my room at uni writing fan fiction … please don't sue! I have £7 left in my bank, so it's really not worth it! =D**

* * *

Michael slid open the blue door to the loft and saw his best friend sat at his desk chair, the phone pressed to his ear. He was twirling back and forth a bit but he looked up when Michael stepped in.

"Look, Mikey's here, I gotta go," he said to the phone.

"Okay, well … I love you," came the voice from the other end.

"Me too. Now, get some sleep."

"Night."

"Night."

He put the phone down and gave Michael a watery smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just thought you might fancy a night out."

"Well … I don't," Brian said. "I've got a load of work to do," he picked up some papers as proof, "and it really needs to be done by tomorrow."

"Oh come on, you've been working every night since Justin left."

There was a long pause before, "It's coming up to the Christmas campaigns, there's a lot of work to do at Kinetic."

"Mmm, okay," Michael nodded, clearly not believing his friend. The truth was, he was worried about Brian. It seemed the man who had everything had become the man with nothing in just a few terrible weeks. Okay, so he had enough money to buy a mansion in the country on impulse and he could easily afford a private plane if he wanted one; the thing was, he was lonely and heartbroken … anyone who knew him could see it.

Brian had already made plans to visit Justin, he was going the weekend after next and he'd already sorted out paying for flights for Justin to come back to Pittsburgh for Christmas in six weeks time. But in the dark corner of Brian's mind, his brain had already started planning what he thought was best for Justin. Michael had dragged him to Woody's and they'd listened to some self-loving divas murder the classics on the karaoke machine for an hour or two. Michael had tried to get Brian to go on to Babylon but the younger man had refused and had ended up leaving early causing Michael to become even more concerned.

ooooo

Brian was watching a James Dean movie when the phone rang. He knew straight away it would be Justin, it was exactly the right time. He leant over to the table, pulled the receiver off the stand and slapped it to his ear.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's me."

"Justin."

"Yeah, you'll never guess where I am right now."

"Oh?" Brian asked, lounging back onto the sofa with his glass of Jim Beam and taking a long sip.

"In a limousine on the way back from the empire state building."

"Wow, you really _are_ living the highlife."

"I know. I still can't believe this is actually happening. It's amazing."

Brian felt a twinge of pain pluck his heartstrings. Although he was happy and relieved that Justin was doing okay, he kind of wished the blonde twink was a bit miserable like he was.

"So," he said after a moments pause, "how did you swing that? Fuck another movie star?"

He heard Justin chuckle a little. "No. This guy who owns a gallery took a few potential artists for an evening out."

"Sounds nice."

"It's amazing!" Justin enthused, "I love it out here."

"I know you do," Brian said. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed a little before saying, "so if it's so brilliant, why are you wasting time ringing me?"

"I always ring you about this time."

"Mm, but if you're busy…." he trailed off. He didn't really have anything else to say and he couldn't bring himself to tell the twink to hang up but he felt Justin shouldn't be ringing him whilst being treated to limo rides and night trips to the empire state building.

"Brian," he could almost hear the frown in Justin's voice. "I like talking to you, it's always the best bit of the day. That's why I ring you at night so it's something I can look forward to."

"I thought you rang me at night so that you can touch yourself."

Justin let out a hot, breathy laugh before saying bluntly, "I miss you."

"Listen," Brian dug his forefinger and thumb into the corners of his eyes. He couldn't cry, not on the fucking phone. He'd seem like a right little faggot and it would probably only ruin Justin's night out. So, instead, he bit back the tears and in a slightly strangled voice he said,

"have a good time tonight, you hear? I'll see you next weekend."

"Okay, later."

Brian hung up, downed his drink and went for a shower. He'd fought off another wave of tears successfully and congratulated himself with a trip to The Adonis.

ooooo

Brian looked at the clock on the cooker. He knew he'd get a phone call any second and it was going to break his heart. He took a swig from his beer but found the bottle was empty, he put the bottle with the other four and got another one out of the fridge. He took a long swig of the drink and went back to the bar stool, still watching the time ticking away. Any second now …

Even though he'd been expected the call, the sound of his cell still made him jump. He left it for a couple of rings and then picked up, took a deep breath and said, as casually as possible,

"What's up?"

"Hey. Where are you? I think it's your plane that's just come in and I can't see you anywhere. Is something wrong with your luggage? Oh wait, is that you by the weird potted plant?"

"No," Brian sighed, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. "That's not me."

"Never mind. That guys just started making out with this woman … disgusting breeders. They're everywhere in New York."

Brian smiled a bit. "I bet," he said, taking a long swig of beer to quash that lump that was starting to form in his throat. With every word Justin was saying, Brian was regretting his decision even though he was sure, ultimately, it was for the best.

"So where _are _you?" Justin whinged.

"I'm in the loft." Brian closed his eyes and waited for the reaction to come. He waited a while until he heard a very quiet, very confused,

"What? I mean, why?"

Brian steadied himself carefully, he had all this planned he knew what he had to say and he knew how he had to say it, he donned his famous sneer and said, "something came up."

There was silence for a long time, until eventually the buzzing of a dial tone told Brian that Justin had hung up. Brian stared at the phone for a couple of seconds before hurling it wildly at the wall. He heard a smash of glass, and a clattering of metal as a painting hit the floor. Brian stood up slowly and padded over to it. He didn't worry about the glass getting in his feet he just stepped over and picked up the broken picture. It was one of the earliest drawings Justin had done after he was bashed and it was the first one Brian ever suggested they hang up in the loft. He remembered Justin's face when he'd said it and he remembered the subsequent events. He shook his head free of the memory and took the picture carefully to the draws by his bed and put it in the bottom one. One less thing to remind him of Justin. Then, he looked around the flat and frowned. Christ, Justin was fucking everywhere. It was as though a Justin tornado had ripped through his loft leaving evidence of the blonde twink's existence everywhere. Brian frowned. It needed to go.

Slowly, he picked up every photo, every painting, every forgotten jacket or sock and put them all in the draw. Every paint brush and pencil. Even that pot of cayenne pepper, he'd _insisted _they buy to improve his fucking jambalaya. All of it was put in the draw, ready to be forgotten. When Brian looked around the flat now, it was full of things that were Brian and no one else. It was better now. Things would be better now. He went to the fridge and took out another beer, he was going to need them tonight.

* * *

Brian had expected one of the Novotny family to turn up and berate him eventually but he hadn't expected it to be as early as the next morning. He was hardly recovering from his hangover and he was all ready to ignore the knock, knock knocking at his door but whoever it was, was fucking persistent. He dragged himself out of his too large bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and moved slowly over to his front door. He dragged it open and was assaulted by loads of colours and glitter.

"Debbie," he gritted his teeth and stepped aside to let her in. She walked straight past and plonked herself on his sofa. "You wanna drink?" he asked her.

"I've got my own," she said, pulling a bottle of wine out of her bag and plonking it on the floor at her feet. "Bring us two glasses."

Brian shrugged, picked up two wine glasses and a bottle opener and walked over. "Drinking in the morning?" he asked, handing her a glass.

"Hair of the dog," she shrugged, "for you at least," she added, running a thumb over the black bag under Brian's right eye. "Looks like you had a long night."

Brian said nothing, he just picked up the bottle and removed the cork, waiting for the real purpose of Debbie's visit to become apparent. He put the corkscrew down and filled the two glasses.

Debbie took a sip before adding, "but I guess destroying relationships can take a lot out of you."

Brian nodded. There it was. "Look," he said, "if you're only here to beat me up about it, don't bother. I've already beaten myself up enough."

"Well I don't think you have. How can you keep doing this to him?"

"_Keep_ doing it?"

"Don't give me that face, you've been playing this game with Justin ever since you met him. You keep letting him get close and then panicking and shoving him away again. Luckily for you, he keeps on coming back."

Brian looked down at the floor, at the window, at his bedroom, anywhere but at Debbie. She grabbed his face and forced him to meet her eyes.

"But to ask him to marry you and then let him down like this; that's too much for anyone to handle. He can't understand it. No one can but…"

"Let me guess," Brian cut in, downing the remainder of his glass and filling it up again, "you've figured it all out because," he pointed at her with his glass, "you know me better than I know myself?"

Debbie gave a weird sort of nod as if she'd expected the outburst before continuing calmly, "that's true, I do. Because notice, I'm not shouting and yelling at you like maybe you'd expect."

"You, Deb?" Brian asked a hint of mock innocence in his voice. "You don't shout and yell, you bring gifts," he indicated the wine, "and play mind games," he pointed at his head as thought to reinforce the point. "You're like a fucking Trojan horse."

Debbie smiled a bit and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You know, it's getting easier to read you, kiddo. You're getting worse at hiding your emotions everyday. I remember when I first met you. You were fourteen and I thought you were just a trouble maker with a bad attitude."

"I thought you still believed that."

"No, I changed my mind about that a _long _time ago," she smiled, sipping her drink. "Got a joint?" she asked, "I find reminiscing easier when I'm stoned."

Brian smirked a bit and went to get a joint. He returned, lit it and handed it to her. She took a hit and sighed contentedly.

"That's better," she smiled, letting her head fall over the back of the sofa. "It was your fifteenth birthday," she continued. Brian's stomach immediately squashed into a ball as he realised what she was talking about. They'd never talked about that night … ever. No one knew about it, except them. "Not that you'd told anyone that, of course. You just arrived on our doorstop, mid-afternoon, asking Michael if you could spend the night. And of course, Michael was never going to say no to you."

Brian smiled a bit, "he's a good friend."

"And don't you forget it," she warned, pointing threateningly at him with a yellow fingernail before passing over the joint. "So you two disappear into Michael's bedroom and I don't hear anything from you for the rest of the evening until much, much later."

Brian took a hit and closed his eyes too. He could feel the emotions of the memory hitting him but mainly he felt anger at his past and love for the woman sat next to him.

"I was in bed," Debbie continued. "And I hear someone moving about downstairs, so I creep down…"

"With a baseball bat," Brian chipped in, handing the joint back.

Debbie smiled a bit, "with a baseball bat" she repeated, "and turn on the light to find you, curled up on the sofa clutching at one of Michael's old soft toys sobbing your eyes out."

Brian pulled his lips into his mouth and shrugged a bit. "You scared the shit out of me swinging that bat around," he protested.

"Hmm." Debbie raised and eyebrow sceptically. "Don't try that again," she smiled fondly, remembering how Brian had used the same lie when she'd shook his shoulders gently that night. "We sat up and talked way into the night and I made us some…"

"Tuna casserole," Brian finished. "Give me that," he said, taking back his joint before continuing, "and we didn't talk late into the night. You just wouldn't leave me alone until I told you what was wrong."

"And it was worth it. We threw a massive birthday party for you the next day."

"First one I'd ever had," Brian replied distantly. He felt Debbie's fingers stroke through his hair gently, just like they had on that night, when he'd curled up against her and cried and cried and cried.

Slowly, he shifted his weight so he was falling against her again and she held him like she had over twenty years ago. Tears began to leak from his eyes.

"You know what I remember about that party," he said quietly, taking a long hit. He needed to form some kind of excuse for this tomorrow, maybe getting high would be good enough. He passed the joint back to her and she asked him what he remembered.

"It was when Jack turned up and you told him he wasn't invited." He felt Debbie stiffen a little before taking a drag and relaxing.

"I didn't realise you knew about that."

Brian nodded, "Michael saw him coming up the path. He got all excited for me, like I'd love to see my alcoholic, asshole father at one of the first happy moments of my childhood. But Michael had blinkers when it came to dad's, even asshole ones. So he starts jumping about all excitedly. But I ran, I ran upstairs and hid in Mikey's room. And that's when I heard you … through the window. You were telling him to fuck off because I didn't want him at my birthday."

Debbie said nothing, she just continued to stroke Brian's hair gently.

"And he told you it wasn't my birthday but you believed me. First time in my life an adult had ever believed anything I said. So you asked him when my birthday was and he didn't know. That's when you slammed the door in his face."

Debbie smiled a little at the memory. She remembered turning around and seeing Brian running down the stairs with a big grin on his face and going to dance in the middle of the living room. He'd always loved dancing, it was an easy way to get everyone to look at him. It was his way of saying fuck off to the people who'd said he wasn't good enough. Whatever anyone did to him and whatever they said, they couldn't take dancing from him.

"Thanks," Brian whispered suddenly. It was so quiet and so unexpected that Debbie wasn't sure she hadn't made it up. It was quiet for a while and Debbie knew Brian was sobbing again. His shoulders were shaking violently but, just like way back then, she didn't mention it, she just let him cry for a while.

After a while, she felt him shift as Brian dried his eyes with his sleeve.

"I know you think your parents never loved you," she said.

"Not think," he interrupted, "know."

"Fine. I just want to say that, despite their faults, they managed to produce one great kid."

Brian snorted a bit and sat up, he gave Debbie a strange look before saying, "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," and kissing her gently on the cheek.

"Yeah, well sometimes, even the most stubborn assholes need to know they're loved."

"Part of the supermom thing?" he asked, a sarcastic look of knowing on his face.

"You got it, kiddo."

Brian reached for his wine and took another drink, before sighing clutching his head with his hands. "What the fuck," he muttered not sure if he was referring to his hangover or his life.

"I know you're afraid," Debbie said quietly. "I know you love him and you're terrified of what it's doing to you. I know you've never seen love work in your life and I know that that affects you more than you'd ever admit. _And_, I know why you pushed Sunshine away."

Brian raised an eyebrow and looked at Debbie sceptically.

"It's because you think it'll be better for him. You think he's gonna forget you because he's in New York and he's moving on to better things. You think he's gonna leave you eventually because he's going to find a better life there. You think he's going to come back for visits and you're not going to measure up to his new life. And most of all, you're terrified that he won't love you anymore … just like you were when you had cancer."

"Christ," he muttered, "Michael really does tell you everything, doesn't he?"

Debbie just smiled but she didn't say anything. I was silent for a long time. Brian hardly moved. He just sat with his knees apart, elbows on thighs and hands in head, staring blankly at the ground. Debbie waited for him to say something else, though something about the endless silence told her she was right.

"He still loves you," she said gently. "He always will. I know that's hard for you to believe. I know something inside you tells you, you don't deserve to be loved but you ignore that, you got it? Everyone deserves to be loved, so … don't throw it all away because of some lie your parents taught you."

Brian sighed heavily, before getting up suddenly and announcing he needed a shower.

Debbie watched him disappear into the bathroom and shut the door. She heard the sound of the shower come on and she sighed. She picked up the remainder of the wine and tipped it down the sink. She did _not _want Brian finishing the rest of that on his own. And then, she slipped away into the real world where work and people still carried on, whilst the old 'hottest stud of liberty avenue' watched his old life collapsing on all sides.

ooooo

Thirty-five. It had loomed up quicker than Brian had ever expected and, lonely and alone, it seemed the only thing the day had brought worth celebrating was a voicemail from Cynthia announcing the collapse of Vanguard. Brian looked in the mirror for a long time that morning. He pulled nervously at the skin around his eyes, it wasn't quite as taught as it once had been. He sifted through his hair nervously, it wasn't quite as glossy as it once was. He took a few steps away and turned to look at his body but as he checked himself out he found the image was a little blurry. He frowned and looked down at his toothbrush, that was blurry too. He looked into his bedroom. Everything was blurry. Shit! His fucking eyes were giving way.

"Christ Kinney," he muttered moving close to the mirror so he could eyeball himself. "What's happened to you?"

He couldn't deny that he wasn't quite as hot as he used to be. He couldn't deny that Brandon and his cronies were closing in on his act … and fast! And he couldn't deny that whilst all his friends had settled down and grown up, he was still hanging around at bars and making friends with guys five years younger than him. Fuck, he was turning into Theodore. But at least Theodore had still had hope that one day he'd find the perfect guy to settle down with, which he did. Brian didn't even have that. He'd found his soul mate, for want of a less lesbionic word, and he'd lost him. He'd pushed him away. So, with Justin on his mind, he did what he should have done five years ago. He got high. He got drunk. He got a scarf. He wrapped it around his neck. He reached the perfect orgasm and then, he fell off the chair in a lifeless heap.


	2. Chapter 2

Justin had donned his best black suit. Jennifer had driven him and he'd begged her to go in with him. He didn't think he could bare going in alone. He'd never been to a funeral before and this was more than he could stand. He was shaking when he linked arms with his mother and she led him, tripping and stumbling into the cold crematorium. Justin stepped closer to his mum when he saw the coffin. He was so close now, it was as though he was trying to merge their bodies together. Jennifer had to loosen his grip a little as he accidentally pinched at her bicep with his pincer grip.

The coffin was placed gently on the conveyor belt before Justin really lost it. Tears ran down his face silently. Why had this happened? He'd been so young. It wasn't fair.

It was then that he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up to see Michael giving a watery smile, tears falling down his own face.

"How you holding up?" Michael asked.

Justin just shook his head a little. He didn't trust himself to speak. It was then that a song began to play and the coffin began to disappear behind the curtain. Justin looked away. He couldn't watch this anymore. It was too painful. He left the crematorium. Jennifer offered to come with him but he shook his head. He wanted to be alone for a while.

Justin felt better as soon as he could breath in fresh air. Air that wasn't polluted with the stench of death and the heavy feeling of sorrow.

"Hey baby," Emmett smiled weakly as Justin walked across the gravel car park towards him. "Need some fresh air?"

"Hmm, it's a bit too much in there," Justin whispered back, sitting on a low wall next to his friend.

"I know. You know, he's the first guy I've slept with that's died."

"Mm, me too," Justin said. "It's horrible. He was always so happy."

"I know," Emmett sighed, putting a hand gently on Justin's cheek. "He just didn't see that car coming."

"Poor Todd."

"Mmm. But it's nice to see you again sweetie, even it is under such horrible circumstances."

"Thanks."

"So how's New York? Is it exciting? How many celebrities have you met?"

"Umm, yeah. I dunno."

"Everything okay baby? Something's different about you," he pushed the blonde hair away from the younger man's face and smiled kindly. "That sunshine smile of yours is looking more like a rainy day."

"It's just being here. It's making me think about Brian."

"Oh yes, you must be worried sick."

Justin nodded carefully. "Not that I'm sure he'd even want me to be."

"Huh?"

Justin shook his head gently. He'd quickly worked out that Brian hadn't told anyone about what had happened between him and Brian since he'd left for New York. He knew Debbie had worked it out and Michael seemed aware of everything that had gone on too. Ted and Emmett however were still completely clueless.

It wasn't long until the old gang were gathered in the car park. Debbie was sobbing a little, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Poor boy," she kept repeating. "It's just so unfair. Why would God take someone like that and leave assholes like Jim Stockwell in the world?"

It was down to Emmett to console her as the rest planned to go to Woodies to toast Todd. Justin tried to duck out, mumbling something about getting back to New York soon but no one would hear of it and soon he was sat with the rest of them in the bar. It wasn't the most comfortable of situations for him anyway but it wasn't being made any easier by the fact that Michael was giving him death glares like _he _had been the one to hit Todd with his car.

Time went by and the somewhat morose conversations and turned to light hearting reminiscing.

"Do you remember that time when Todd tried to become a top?" Emmett chuckled.

"He even went to the gym and started on weights," Michael laughed.

"It lasted all of about ten minutes and then that big brutal top strolled past and he was a big nelly bottom again," Emmett laughed.

"Hey," Debbie cut in solemnly. "Shouldn't you boys be getting to the hospital."

The atmosphere around the table immediately became sombre again as the men all peered around at each other, each one of their thoughts drifting to their friend currently battling for his life in a hospital bed. It was almost silent as Michael, Ted and Emmett got to their feet and grabbed coats and jackets , getting ready to leave.

"Aren't you coming baby?" Emmett asked Justin, who hadn't moved.

"I … I," Justin faltered and then shook his head.

"Probably not," Michael cut in, "he's a selfish little shit." Justin said nothing, his head just dipped further, and concentrated on pulling the label from his bottle of Bud. He felt like crying all over again.

"Michael," Emmett gasped, dragging the angry man away from Woodies, leaving Justin alone with his pain for all of thirty seconds. Debbie Novotny was not going to let her surrogate son mope over the love of his life in a bar with a bottle of beer.

"Sunshine," Debbie said sternly, "a word please."

Justin frowned and got to his feet, he followed Debbie to a secluded area, away from his mother and the few others that had been to Todd's funeral.

"Go to the hospital," she said as soon as she was sure no one else could hear them.

"Look, he made it clear I didn't mean anything. He promised me he was coming to visit and then he…."

"I know what he did," Debbie said. "And don't worry, I was the first to tell him he was an asshole but," she sighed, "I understood why he did it."

"Well, I wish someone would explain it to me."

"He doesn't think he deserves to be loved."

"That's ridiculous, even for him. He knows how I feel about him. We were going to get married."

"And then … you left."

"But he told me to go!"

"Of course he did," Debbie smiled, "he doesn't want to hold you back. He's only ever wanted you to be yourself."

"The best homosexual I can be," Justin muttered under his breath."He still loves you, honey. He always will. Go to the hospital."

oOoOo

It was horrible. Brian was hooked up to all these wires and tubes and machines. Justin almost cried when he saw it. He knew Brian would hate this. Brian would never have wanted to battle for his life in a hospital bed being supported by robots. He'd have wanted to just go out in a blaze of glory not die a sick man unable to support himself. Justin almost understood why Brian had done this. He knew Brian had never intended to stay to the end. He remembered Brian once claiming that life was like a party, you should leave while it's still good but Justin knew this hadn't been the attempted suicide of a man wanting to bow out early; still young and still beautiful. This was the attempted suicide of a man who'd lost everything.

"It wasn't suicide," Ted said calmly when Justin had built up the courage to voice his thoughts. "The police didn't find a note."

"So," Justin scowled. "This is Brian Kinney. He doesn't do things the way everyone else does."

"I suppose but…"

"Have you checked at his office at Kinnetic?" Justin begged.

"We're not looking at suicide," Ted said more firmly. "It's…" he trailed off because he still found it somewhat embarrassing.

"It's a sex act gone wrong," Michael growled as explanation. It was the first thing he'd said to Justin since the younger man had arrived at the hospital. They'd been stood next to one another staring through the window but they hadn't shared a word. "Son of a bitch," Michael whispered through the glass, his palm flat against it, his fingers crooked.

They sat in silence for a while until Ted decided he should probably go and find out how Kinnetic was getting on and Emmett said he'd be fired if he didn't hotfoot it that second. Michael and Justin didn't move they just sat down in the horrible cold seats and waited … and waited … and waited.

Eventually, a doctor came to see them and Michael bombarded him with a million and one question whilst Justin just sat silently and listened to the doctor explaining he couldn't tell them anything because they weren't related. Brilliant. Another victory for the medical system.

"Please Sir," the doctor begged, "stop. I can't tell you anything." Michael looked angry but he gave up and sat back down. "Now," the doctor continued, checking his clipboard for a name, "which one of you is Michael Novotney?"

"Me," Michael said quickly, getting back to his feet. He looked a bit like he was playing musical chairs with himself and Justin would have laughed if there had been anything remotely funny about this situation or the next sentence.

"Okay, sir. Were you aware that you're named as executor of Mr Kinney's living will?"

"Oh no," Justin breathed, tears running down his cheeks. He felt like his whole insides had just collapsed into his stomach. His heart stopped beating and he felt like he too was going to die. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to cry and scream and yell but he couldn't do any of it. All he could do was sit and listen numbly as Michael answered steadily,

"Yes. I know."

"Okay, well if you come with me, I can tell you all the details and all the options for the future."

Michael nodded dumbly and followed the doctor meekly. Justin watched them leave. He sat unable to move for a good ten minutes as the despair began to give over to anger. He stood up and walked over to the window. He peered through the glass and put a palm flat against the glass. He could see the lights bleeping, telling him Kinney was still alive. He could see the skin, not as tanned as it had been and the body not as toned as it had been and the hair, not as glossy as it had been. But he was still beautiful, even like this, attached to machines and barely alive he was the most beautiful thing Justin had ever seen and the younger man knew he'd love him forever but he didn't know how much longer forever was going to be, at least not for Brian.

"How could you do this to us?" he whispered, one fat tear trickling slowly down his cheek and dropping onto the ledge under the window. Justin pressed his forehead against the glass. "Please Brian," he begged. "Wake up. I love you."


	3. Chapter 3

Michael had come out of the meeting with the doctor looking pale as a ghost. He decided he was going to go straight home. He couldn't bare to be in that hospital anymore, he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It was like all the air had been knocked out of him and every breath was a desperate struggle. He walked past Justin refusing to tell him anything other than that he been told it was up to him whether or not to turn of the machine.

"What are the chances that he'll wake up?" Justin demanded, chasing after him. Michael just shook his head. He couldn't say it out loud, it was too painful but Justin wouldn't let it rest. He chased Michael down the corridor calling his name, each time he repeated it, it sounded more desperate than the last until finally, Michael felt clammy fingers grasp his bicep and swing him round.

Michael could only stare into Justin's eyes. If he'd ever doubted Justin's love for Brian, which he had, then that look dispelled any doubt he may have had. Justin's eyes were haunted, empty and terrified.

"Please," Justin begged. "Tell me, tell me what are the chances he'll wake up?"

Michael stared back. The intensity coming of Justin was more than he could handle. His mouth dropped open as if to answer but his throat was dry and the words got stuck in his throat.

"Goddammit Michael!" Justin suddenly yelled. "What are the chances?"

"Less than 40%," Michael answered slowly, tears running down his cheeks and then he'd gone home.

Justin didn't have the luxury of going home. Despite how often Debbie and Jennifer claimed that he had a home with them, there was only one place he called home in Pittsburgh and there was no way he could go there alone. He didn't want to see it anyway because it would make the image of Brian hanging by his neck from the ceiling fan all the more vivid. Justin's insides heaved a little but he managed to keep his outer shell from even flinching. He needed sleep desperately. He needed to sit in a room and sob. He needed to be alone but Justin couldn't leave Brian's side for even a second. Justin peered through the glass and wondered if this was how Brian had felt when he'd waited to find out if Justin was going to die all those years ago after the prom. But he couldn't dwell on that event for too long. Things were desperate enough right now without dragging all that shit up again.

Eventually, Daphne arrived at the hospital having decided that life could wait for her too. She promised to stay with Justin every second she needed him.

"I'm not going to be very good company," he warned her.

"I know," she'd smiled, hugging him and rubbing his back lovingly. "We'll just wait for things to get better."

He'd nodded and that was how he and Daphne spent five days straight sat outside Brian's room, being joined occasionally by various other members of the family. Justin noticed, however, that none of Brian's actual family turned up. He didn't ask anyone where they were, in fact he never said a word. Nothing seemed important when the love of his life was hanging in limbo between life and death. Debbie had mentioned during one of her rants that although Brian's mum had been told, after her reaction to his cancer, she'd been banned from visiting the hospital. Justin knew Brian would have wanted that. The only person Justin didn't see during visiting times was Michael. Ben appeared a couple of times just to find out how Brian was doing and he told Justin that Michael had been beating himself up badly over making this decision. Ben told him that Michael looked like shit, the only time he slept was when he passed out in the middle of the day from exhaustion. He didn't want this kind of power over Brian's life but Brian had chosen him and trusted him with everything. Justin said nothing. He didn't care how much Michael was stressing out, none of this was about Michael. None of it would ever be about Michael. It was all about Brian.

Debbie however was of the apposing opinion. She was furious at Brian for putting all this on Michael and it was the day she ranted endlessly about what a selfish shit Brian was for doing this to her son that Justin finally said something … or at least screamed something.

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!" He exploded, causing the attention of all the visitors, Ted, Emmett, Cynthia, Daphne and Ben, to change abruptly from Debbie and onto Justin who was bright red and on his feet. "You're such a fucking hypocrite." He'd never talked to Debbie like this before and she looked stunned and hurt but what did he fucking care. Yeah, if Brian was awake he'd have probably put a hand on his shoulder and told him to 'take it easy, Picasso' but Brian wasn't there, that was the fucking point and Justin figured he had nothing left to lose so he just kept shouting. "When Ted was lying in a fucking coma and Brian had a little wobble from his calmness as he tried to make a decision everyone turned on him. Everyone said he was a selfish shit for putting the decision off, for not knowing what to do. Now Michael's lost his fucking mind trying to make a similar decision and instead of Michael being selfish and uncompassionate, it's Brian's fault again. All he did was trust his supposed best friend to make a decision. He might _die _Debbie and all you can do is stand here and talk about how unfair it is on Michael!" Justin panted heavily, his eyes narrowing as he finished through bitter, gritted teeth. "Well, fuck Michael … and fuck you!" And with that, he turned on his heels and stormed down the corridor leaving the rest of the group stunned.

Justin sat on the bench outside the front of the hospital. He panted heavily, trying desperately to restore his breathing to normality but he wasn't having much luck. His knuckles were white and his hands balled into fists which he was rubbing roughly up and down his thighs. He was furious, the adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He knew he was either going to punch something or cry but he really wasn't sure which yet. It was maybe five minutes when his fingers began to stretch out a bit and the previously frantic action slowed to a halt as the tears rolled down his cheek. He was sure Brian would have wiped his tears away and kissed him on the forehead telling him to forget about it. 'Put it out of your head,' he'd say slowly. Or he'd be angry 'what the fuck are you doing here? You should be in New York, you better not be putting his life on hold for me'. Or, more than likely, he'd yell at Justin to get out. He tell him he didn't want him, that the 'I love you' was just a result of fear. He'd claim that he didn't want Justin around anymore, that he'd moved on. He'd claim anything to get Justin away from him when he was sick. He knew Brian would hate that anyone, but especially Justin, had seen him looking so weak and vunerable. He was just going through all the things Brian Kinney would say when a voice to his side said, "you were right."

Justin looked up, blinking against the tears, he saw Debbie looking sheepish and apologetic.

"Mind if I sit down?" She asked. Justin gestured wordlessly to the spot on the bench next to him and she wrapped her coat tighter around her and lowered herself carefully into the seat. They sat in silence for a while, Justin certainly wasn't going to start this conversation.

"I'm sorry," Debbie announced eventually. "You're absolutely right. I know that Michael's going through hell making this decision but it's not Brian's fault. I mean, the man's a selfish shit for scarfing and thinking he'd be okay. For putting us all though hell especially Michael but I can't even imagine what you're going through."

Justin stayed silent but he relaxed a little and shuffled closer to Debbie, it was a silent acceptance and apology all in one and it led Debbie to wrap her arms around Justin's skinny body.

"Christ, Sunshine," she moaned. "There's nothing to you. You can't have eating a thing. Come on, I'll get you some food."

Justin just shook his head. "I can't eat," he whispered. "I wouldn't be able to keep it down anyway, not until I know if he's going to wake up."

"Honey," Debbie said softly, "that could be years."

Justin just shrugged sorrowfully. Debbie didn't say anything else she just guided him back into the hospital and sat him next to Daphne. Everyone was silent after that.

That night, Debbie went home and rang Michael, telling him he'd left it too long and that he had to make a decision.

* * *

Justin was sat on the plastic chair in the corridor outside Brian's room the next morning when Michael came ended his world. He looked like shit and Justin knew from the look in his eyes what Michael was going to say.

"No," the blonde all but screamed but Michael just shook his head and began to weep.

"I think," he sobbed, the tears flowing freely down his face, "that Brian would have wanted to go out early. He'd hate to think he looked like this. He'd hate for people to remember him like this."

Justin's expression turned ice cold the fear of what Michael had decided had engulfed him. "What are you saying? Please don't do this."

"I've told them," he sobbed loudly, tears drowning his words, "I've told them to turn off the machine."

"No!" Justin screamed, getting to his feet, then falling back to the chair. He got up again and went to punch Michael but thought better of it and kicked wildly at the open nearest door so it slammed shut. Now it was just him, and Michael fighting over Brian; it seemed their relationship had come full circle.

"How could you do that!" Justin sounded manic even in his own ears but he couldn't help it. He felt manic. How could Michael just throw Brian's life away like that? How dare he play god with another man's life? Justin thumped Michael's chest with the base of his fist and then ran for Brian's room. The curtains were already drawn around the bed and Justin banged on the glass with all his might.

"Brian! BRIAN!" He screamed. The glass was vibrating under his hammering and everyone in the corridor was looking at him anxiously but Justin didn't care. He hardly even noticed. "NO! NO! PLEASE!" He yelled, and then quietly, like a desperate prayer, he sobbed, "please," and fell limply to the floor in a crumpled heap.

A nurse picked him up some undeterminable amount of time later. She took him to a comfy chair and sat him down. She gave him a glass of water and asked if he thought he should see a doctor. He just shook his head numbly. He felt numb. Everything was numb. Maybe this was what happened when you're heart got broken. It stopped being able to supply your body with blood until eventually every part of you goes numb and you fail to keep breathing anymore. Justin just sat and stared ahead of him in his own, painful, black depression. He didn't feel anything, he didn't see anything, he didn't hear anything … which is probably why he missed a nurse leaning out of the door of Brian's room and shout,

"Doctor, come quickly! The machines are off but we've got a heartbeat."


End file.
